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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551486">And There Was Only One Answer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry'>etymolodrarry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And There Was Only One [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Banter, Bickering, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, French Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, OTPshipper98, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Post-Hogwarts, Sharing a Bed, also, and there was only one bed, but hes also very cuddly, draco malfoy is still a dramatic little shit, harry potter speaks parseltongue, harry takes advantage of this, i cant seem to write fanfics without creating at least some magical theory lmao, its mostly hurt/comfort though, oh and some magical theory, theres a little bit of angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:21:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Harry have just finished their Auror mission, and Draco has a few questions for him before they go their separate ways.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And There Was Only One [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/gifts">OTPshipper98</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A sequel to "And There Was Only One Bed," which was originally inspired by OTPshipper98's memefic of the same title! Please check out both fics if you haven't!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>Harry looked to Draco in surprise. “Sure,” he nodded as they left Auror Robards office that Friday evening. “Hang on, I need to grab something from our office,” he added as he slung his cloak over his shoulder. </p><p>Now that they had submitted their report summary and a few memories (excluding the…<em> personal </em> ones, of course) Aurors Potter and Malfoy were given the rest of the weekend off—Robards hadn’t even given them paperwork to do before their next mission. </p><p>“Wait, do you…do you want to go get something to eat?” Draco looked at him curiously.</p><p>“Yes <em> please, </em>I’m starved,” Harry answered, before stopping. “Wait, was that your question?”</p><p>“Er, no,” Draco answered. “I was wondering…when we got to the cabin a few days ago, you offered to sleep on the floor.”</p><p>“Yes?” Harry frowned, “so did you—well, you kind of <em> demanded </em> that you sleep on the floor—” They rounded the corner and neared their office door.</p><p>“What did you mean when you said you’ve slept in worse places?”</p><p>Harry froze, his hand hovering over the door handle. He wondered exactly how <em> much </em> he should share, if he should share anything at all. Regardless, shutting Draco out would be an absolute <em> disaster </em> . Harry hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that Draco was a <em> ‘dramatic little shit,’ </em> after all. If Harry brushed him off, Draco would likely close off, ruining the delicate relationship they’d managed to build in the last forty-eight hours. The remainder of their mission <em> had </em> gone smoothly, but they’d spent a lot of time dancing around each other, careful not to step on each others’ toes or push too far. </p><p>Harry pushed the door open, trying to decide how to answer. <em>Do I tell him about the hut?</em> <em>Or do I tell him about the cupboard?</em> </p><p>“When I was eleven," he began cautiously, “my uncle dragged all of us to a tiny hut in the middle of nowhere in an attempt to avoid my Hogwarts letter. It was dusty<b>,</b> and cold <b>,</b> and <em> filled </em> with mildew, and we couldn’t even get a fire going. My point is, <em> anywhere </em> is better than sleeping on the floor of that nasty hut.”</p><p>Draco frowned. “Why<b>…</b> why was he trying to <em> avoid </em> your Hogwarts letter?”</p><p>“He didn’t like magic,” Harry said simply, scooping up the jacket he’d left on his desk chair and walking back into the hallway, brushing past Draco. “So, where’d you want to eat?”</p><p>“Oh! Er, up to you, I guess,” he answered, surprised by the sudden subject change.</p><p>“There’s a chippy just down the street,” Harry suggested, “we could grab something there and then figure out some place to eat.” </p><p>Draco stared at him. “What the hell is a <em> ‘chippy?’” </em></p><p>“You know, like fish and chips.” He laughed at Draco’s baffled expression. “Right, it's a muggle thing. C’mon, it’s good!”</p><p>“Well, if you have no other ideas,” Draco sniffed, “I suppose that’ll do.”</p><p>After apparating them to a side street, he led Draco to the fish and chip shop. “Yeah, it gets crowded on Fridays,” he said when he spotted Draco’s bewildered expression. Despite it almost being ten o’clock, the tiny shop was packed with people waiting for their orders. “It’s kind of a tradition—they call it <em> ‘fish and chips Friday.’  </em>He pushed the door open and ushered Draco inside. </p><p>The shop was filled with shouts and boisterous laughter, the discordant noise hurting Harry’s ears as they entered. They got in line to order, squeezing behind a group of loud tourists. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Draco stiffen. He looked over to see him staring straight ahead, his arms drawn protectively across his torso. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Harry placed his hand on his elbow to draw his attention.</p><p>Draco jumped and nodded a little too quickly. “Would you mind if I waited outside?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s fine,” Harry answered, glancing at the menu that hung over the till. “Do you know what you want?” </p><p>He hesitated and followed Harry’s line of vision. “Whatever you’re getting is fine,” he answered, “thanks.” He headed for the door, squeezing past the crowd of people who were just entering.  </p><p>Harry met Draco outside and handed him one of the plastic bags that contained their food. “Where do you want to eat?” He asked, “we can sit on a bench, or go somewhere else.” He considered inviting Draco to his flat, but then he remembered the disheveled state he’d left it in, and decided against it.</p><p>“We could—we could go to my place, if you’d like,” Draco suggested cautiously.</p><p>Harry frowned. “I mean, I don’t want to overstep—” </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. “<em> Really, </em> Potter, do you think I’d bother asking if I wanted you to say no? What kind of people-pleaser do you think I am?”</p><p>Harry snorted. “Okay, <em> fine, </em> you git. Your place, then.”</p><p>Draco’s flat wasn’t at all like he’d expected—he’d thought it would look similar to the Manor, with polished marble floors and precious artefacts on display throughout the place. Instead, it looked a <em> lot </em> more <em> ‘lived in.’ </em> The floor <em> was </em> marble, but every inch of it was covered by rugs, giving the space a sort of a cozy ambience <b>.</b> Harry made a mental note to invest in a few rugs. </p><p>Draco marched straight past his dining table and unceremoniously dumped the food onto the coffee table before disappearing into the kitchen. By the time he returned, Harry had settled into the couch and was unwrapping his food. </p><p>“What are you <em> doing?” </em>   Draco asked in astonishment, and Harry looked over to see him clutching a pair of forks and knives. “Why are you eating with your <em> hands?” </em> </p><p>Harry laughed. “Because that’s how you eat fish and chips,” he grinned at Draco’s bewildered expression. “C’mon, sit down and eat.” </p><p>Draco did as he was told, gingerly opening the carton and cutting a piece of fish off with his knife. “It’s…not bad, actually,” he said after a few bites, “I think it might be growing on me.”</p><p>“If you find it too greasy,” Harry told him, “<em>inunctumis</em> will help.” He placed his food on his lap and waved his wand over it to demonstrate. It was a trick that Mrs. Weasley had shown him—Harry found it really useful for heavier foods that often made him sick.</p><p>“Oh, thank Merlin,” Draco mirrored the spell on his own food, “I really thought I was just going to have to suffer through all of this grease.”</p><p>“C’mon, it’s not <em> that </em> greasy!” Harry laughed, “besides, I thought you <em> ‘weren’t a people pleaser!’” </em></p><p>“Yeah, well,” Draco waved his hand, “I’m only trying to be polite—is it not up to your standards, <em> oh Chosen One?” </em></p><p>Harry laughed and hit Draco on the shoulder. Draco protested when the grease on Harry’s hands got on his robes, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I have another question,” Draco announced suddenly.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“If your uncle didn’t like magic, is that why you didn’t know that much about it when you started school?”</p><p>Harry scoffed. “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my letter?”</p><p>Draco paused, a chip lifted halfway to his mouth. “There’s no <em> bloody </em>  way, Potter.”</p><p>“It’s true! I didn’t know <em> anything </em> until Hagrid broke down the door to that hut, gave me my first-ever birthday cake and my Hogwarts letter!”</p><p><em> “What?” </em>   His eyes widened. “First <em> ever?” </em></p><p>Harry bit his lip. In his amusement, he’d shared more than he’d intended. “Er, yeah. First ever.”</p><p>“As in… you <em> never </em> celebrated your birthday before that? Not once?”</p><p>“I mean, I still got presents and stuff. Kind of.”</p><p>“What do you mean, <em> ‘kind of?’” </em></p><p>Harry grimaced, wishing he didn’t have such an aversion to lying. He’d dug himself into a hole at this point—he couldn’t change the subject or give a half-truth. His only two options were to lie or to answer the question. He <em> really </em> didn’t want to talk about it—sharing details about his life tended to elicit indicative reactions that always put him in a sour mood. He hated having to offer explanations to people—exactly <em> why </em> the Dursleys treated Harry the way they did and <em> why </em> he never got out of there sooner—it was <em> exhausting. </em> </p><p>“I mean…” Harry sighed, “I got <em> presents, </em> but it was mostly junk; coat hangers, tissues, that sort of stuff.” He was looking into his hands, so he missed the way Draco’s face twisted with anger as he spoke. </p><p>“You’re <em> kidding, </em> right?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “I think it was to remind me that they hadn’t forgotten. That they hated me <em> so much </em>that they’d go out of their way to give me junk for my birthday.”</p><p><em> “Fuck.” </em> Draco’s hands curled into fists. “Who could <em> hate </em> you? You were a <em> child— </em> and Harry <em> bloody </em> Potter! The fucking <em> Boy Who Lived!” </em> </p><p>“Well, I didn’t know that at the time,” Harry said dryly, watching in surprise as Draco stood from the couch and started to pace. It was a subtle detail, but Draco wasn’t looking at <em> him </em> when he asked his questions—he wasn’t looking to Harry for answers. He wasn’t necessarily indignant, like the others—no, he was <em> vindictive. </em> He wanted <em> revenge </em> on Harry’s behalf. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought that perhaps Draco was overreacting—he didn’t even know the <em> half </em> of it, anyways. But then he reminded himself that he likely had a <em> very </em> skewed awareness of what was <em> ‘normal,’ </em> so he let it slide.</p><p>“I'm gonna <em> kill </em>them!” Draco said to himself amongst the string of obscenities he was muttering about the Dursleys.</p><p>“You can’t kill them,” Harry said wearily, “besides, I haven’t spoken to them in years. For all I know, they could be dead.”</p><p>“I don’t care, <em> Potter </em>. I’ll dig up their damn graves myself if I have to.”</p><p>Harry barked a laugh. “Really, it’s <em> okay—” </em></p><p>“You know <em> damn well </em> that it’s <em> not—” </em></p><p>“Okay,<em> fine, </em> it’s not.” He agreed, “the way they treated me was horrible and cruel. But I already <em> know </em> all that, so won’t you just come sit with me and finish your dinner?”</p><p>Draco blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but Harry watched him with wide eyes, doing his best to appear innocent, and he relented. </p><p>“This isn’t over, you hear me?” Draco huffed, returning to the couch and poking his finger into Harry’s chest.</p><p>“It never is,” Harry agreed wearily, running his fingers through his hair.</p><p>Draco watched him curiously. “There’s more to this than you’re letting on, isn’t there?”</p><p><em> Damnit. </em> </p><p>Harry was <em> hoping </em> that he wouldn’t pick up on it. Unfortunately for Harry, however, Draco was raised with pureblood ideologies—which included an understanding of non-verbal communication. </p><p>“Yeah—yeah, there is,” he said shortly, hoping Draco would get the hint. He moved his food wrappers off his lap and started gathering them to throw them out. “Where’s the bin?”</p><p>“Around the corner, under the sink.” Draco answered, watching him disappear into the kitchen with their trash.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Magical theory:</strong>
</p><p><em>inunctumis:</em> from Latin <em>in-</em> "not, un-" and Latin <em>unctum  </em>"rich, savory," and "greasy, oily."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I have an idea,” Draco said when Harry returned, “would you—I dunno, do you have any questions for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Questions for you?” Harry repeated, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ve already asked you two—it’s only fair that you get to ask some, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, er,” he paused to think of a question. Draco hoped it would be something better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘what’s your favorite Quidditch team?’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s your mum?” Harry finally asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You</span>
  <em>
    <span> know</span>
  </em>
  <span> how my mum is!” Draco protested, hitting him on the shoulder. “I know for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fact</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you owl her at least once every two weeks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, a lot can happen in two weeks!” Harry laughed, hitting him back just as hard. “Okay okay,” he sobered, “er—why did you want to wait outside at the chippy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Draco said, the grin sliding off his face. ”Right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry said quickly, “you can just tell me how your mum is doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask her yourself,” he grumbled back, before taking a deep breath. “I kind of have an…aversion to loud noises. It isn’t a big deal when we’re on the field because I can just use muffling and filtering charms, but I can’t exactly use those when we’re in a muggle shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded seriously, waiting for Draco to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re aware that—that Voldemort lived at the Manor for a little over a year, yeah?” He paused. “Well, it wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span> during that time. There was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> screaming—usually some poor soul that had been captured during an attack. Sometimes I could escape to my room, but that didn’t work when he called upon all of us to </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He swallowed, “and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t work when he wanted me to—when I was the one who—” his voice broke and he drew a shuddering breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say it,” Harry said softly, grabbing Draco’s hand, “I’m really sorry, Draco. You didn’t deserve that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Potter,” Draco scoffed, ignoring the tear that rolled down his cheek. “Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>me? I most </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserved it. I was a piece of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do with it,” Harry insisted, “you were a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was seventeen.” He rolled his eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still a child,” Harry insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long silence passed before Harry spoke again. “I thought something was wrong with me until I found out I was a wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pursed his lips. “Wrong how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, my aunt and uncle </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I’m a wizard,” he said, “and not only did they never tell me, but they told me </span>
  <em>
    <span>constantly</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I’m a—” he swallowed, “that I’m a freak. And I believed them, for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>time. Sometimes I still do. I thought that something was wrong with me—and that’s disregarding the unexplained accidental magic I was exhibiting. I thought</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> surely there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason as to why they treated me the way they did,; something that only they knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Draco interrupted, “there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong with you, yeah? I mean, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except, there is,” Harry answered, “maybe not in the way the Dursleys meant, but there still is. I’m a freak, even within the Wizarding world. Apparently, I have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive</span>
  </em>
  <span> magical core, I can cast a Patronus </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> throw off the Imperius,” he turned to look at Draco, “Did you know that I’ve used Unforgivables? I’m certainly not </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it—nor am I proud of the fact that I managed them on my </span>
  <em>
    <span>first try. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m a bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>parselmouth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not to mention that I survived the Killing Curse </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrice!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pressed his hand to Harry’s arm to silence him. “You’re listing all of these things about yourself, Harry, but none of them are </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad—</span>
  </em>
  <span>okay, maybe the Unforgivables thing, but I’m sure you had your reasons. None of them make you a freak—they make you a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span> wizard and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful </span>
  </em>
  <span>person. Those things shaped you into who you are now, and to take them as proof that you’re a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>freak’</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a disservice to who you are as a person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry blinked at him. “I—I don’t know what to say,” he stammered. He ducked his head, trying to hide the flush across his face, but the corners of his mouth quirked as if he couldn’t help but smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shifted towards Harry, curling up against the couch and tilting his head curiously. “Is that why, at Hogwarts, you always looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bewildered?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like you didn’t understand why everyone was treating you the way they were?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, I guess,” he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always thought you were being humble for attention,” Draco snorted, “but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> had no idea how wonderful you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You thought I was wonderful?” Harry smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up,” Draco flushed, “just about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought you were wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True, but you aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘just about everyone,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you?” Harry leaned in closer and tucked a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear. “No, you’re much better,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p><span>Draco’s breath hitched in his throat, not only</span> <span>from the proximity, but from the way Harry was looking at him. He’d never seen Harry look at </span><em><span>anyone</span></em><span> like that. It was somewhere between pure adoration and </span><em><span>desire</span></em><span>, like Draco was the only thing that mattered at that moment.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a stupid question</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Draco thought. Clearly, Harry had no idea how </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco had wanted to kiss him </span>
  <em>
    <span>all damn day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And even if he hadn’t—there was only one answer to such a question. There was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one answer</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Harry Potter was asking if he could kiss you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t even bother giving him a proper answer. Why waste time responding when you could be snogging </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled his hand against Harry’s jaw, pulling him forward to bring their lips together. It was just as amazing as that first kiss—and all of the subsequent ones, too. Draco shivered as Harry ran his fingers through his hair, pressing his body against Draco’s. And his </span>
  <em>
    <span>tongue—oh Merlin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco gasped when Harry’s tongue pressed against his lower lip, but he parted his mouth, allowing Harry to enter further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before long they were pulling away, both of them breathing hard. Harry leaned his forehead against Draco’s, watching him with glassy eyes, but the moment was ruined when the clock above the mantle started to chime. It took Harry a moment to drag his eyes away from Draco’s face, and when he did, he quickly realized how late it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s past midnight,” he said, biting his lip, “I guess I should get going, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wrinkled his nose. “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” he scoffed, “you can’t go out in this weather, you’ll get sick! And then you’ll get </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> sick, and we can’t have that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that’s not how it works, right?” Harry answered with a laugh. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> we have healing spells for a reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t think you’d realize that,” he pouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raised his eyebrows in realization. “You just want me to spend the night, don’t you?” He grinned when Draco blushed and pouted even more. “Why didn’t you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called </span>
  <em>
    <span>subtlety,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco protested, “something you </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>never bothered to learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Harry laughed, “well, I mean—</span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you want me to stay? Because I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want you to stay,” he answered, and his sincere tone seemed to catch Harry off guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—really? Uh, then yeah!” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he smiled shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned at him and stood up. “I should get ready for bed—do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, I’ve got—” he patted his cloak pockets, “I’ve got some stuff in here somewhere—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—you keep a spare change of clothes in your </span>
  <em>
    <span>cloak</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s coming in handy, isn’t it?” Harry pulled a tiny bundle of clothes from an inside pocket and unshrunk it with his wand. “I got into the habit after hunting Horcruxes during seventh year,” he snorted, “being on the run for nine months will do that to you.” He shrugged easily and headed for the spare bathroom that Draco pointed him to.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Draco had finished his nighttime routine and emerged from his bedroom, Harry was already at the couch—Draco had a feeling that he’d simply cast a full-body <em> scourgify </em> and called it a day.</p><p>Draco frowned when he saw the threadbare t-shirt that Harry was wearing. “You’re shivering,” he said, quickly grabbing an afghan and wrapping it securely around his shoulders. “Wait here,” he told him, going back to his room to grab something to read. </p><p>“It took you long enough,” Harry said when Draco finally reappeared in the doorway, “get back here!”</p><p>“Merlin, Potter, why are you so damn clingy?” he scoffed, “were you not held as a child, or something?” He froze as the words left his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he watched Harry with wide eyes, realizing with a sinking feeling that he may have just ruined <em> everything. </em></p><p>Somehow, Harry seemed to find it funny. “Because I <em> like </em>you, you prat!” he laughed, “and for the record: no, no I was not.”</p><p>Draco blinked at him, struggling to decide which statement he should respond to first. “You—you like me, huh?”</p><p>“I do,” he confirmed, “now, are you going to come cuddle me or not?”</p><p>He hurried to the couch, tossing his book aside as Harry opened his arms to let Draco slip under the afghan. <em> I’ll ask him about it later, </em> Draco thought as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s torso, <em> now isn’t the time. </em> He pressed his face against Harry’s chest and sighed as he felt his arms around him. Harry smelled of something vaguely sweet and woodsy, though Draco couldn’t pinpoint it exactly.</p><p>After a long, comfortable silence (during which Harry nearly fell asleep) Draco mumbled something into his shirt.</p><p>“Whatd’ya say?” Harry lifted his head from where it’d been resting against the back of the couch.</p><p>“I said, <em> ‘you smell,’” </em> Draco shifted so that his voice was clearer.</p><p>“Gee, <em> thanks,” </em> he said sarcastically, “a Scouring charm can only go so far, you know.”</p><p>“I never said you smelled <em> bad.” </em> When Harry didn’t respond to this, he added, “you smell quite nice, actually.” Draco felt the vibrations of Harry’s chest as he laughed, and he smiled satisfactorily. The goal <em> was </em> to make Harry laugh, after all.</p><p>“Hey, I have another question,” Harry said after a moment, running his fingers through Draco’s hair so that he would look up.</p><p>“What is it?” Draco just hoped he wasn’t about to ask something dumb that would <em> completely </em> ruin the moment they were having.</p><p>“Well, I was wondering—” Harry bit his lip and cast his eyes to the side. “I really like you—erm, if you haven’t figured that out already. Would you—would you want to be my boyfriend?”</p><p>Draco stared at him. <em> Is he </em> <em> always </em> <em> asking such stupid questions? </em> This was yet another <em> obvious </em> question—another question with only one answer. “You’re actually asking me?” he asked, trying to stifle a laugh.</p><p>Harry’s face fell. “Well, I <em> was </em>—because—“ he pulled his arms away from Draco, trying to lean away from him. “Because I thought—sorry, never mind—”</p><p>He was interrupted by a soft kiss—a kiss that wasn’t filled with need and desire like the previous ones. Draco tried to put as much reassurance into it as he could muster, slowly moving his lips against Harry’s until he ran out of air. Draco pulled away and gently ran his thumb against Harry’s cheek, watching the confusion flicker across his face.</p><p>“I’m not laughing because I don’t want to be,” he tried to clarify, “I’m laughing because it’s a bloody stupid question—of <em> course </em> I want to be your boyfriend.” He kissed the corner of his mouth and added, “And I’m laughing because I’m surprised you asked for clarification—that sort of thing is usually implied.”</p><p>“<em> Right, </em> right,” Harry huffed a laugh, “forgive me for not being <em> subtle </em>.”</p><p>“I suppose I could do that,” Draco grinned, and he reached for where he’d tossed his book in his hurry to get to the couch. “I usually read before bed,” he said sheepishly when Harry caught his eye.</p><p>“You do?” Harry looked surprised. “I <em> hate </em>reading.”</p><p>“How could you hate <em> reading </em>?”</p><p>He shrugged. “‘Mione says it’s because I was never read to, growing up.”</p><p>Draco pursed his lips. “Right,” he said, “right, that makes sense.” He stared at the book in his hands. “Maybe I could—no, that wouldn’t work.” He turned the book around to show Harry the cover. “Um, it’s kind of stupid, but I was going to ask if you’d like me to read to you. Except—well, this book is in French.”</p><p>“No, that’s okay!” Harry said quickly when Draco glanced to his bedroom, already deciding on a different book to choose. </p><p>“You’re sure? You want me to read it to you?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d like that,” Harry answered shyly, and added, “I didn’t know you could speak French.”</p><p><em> ”Bien sûr que je peux, </em> <span class="u">balafré</span>,<strong>* </strong><em>ma famille est française.” </em></p><p>Harry flushed, “what did—what did you say?”</p><p>“I said, <em> ‘of course I can, scarhead, my family is French,’” </em> Draco answered cheekily.</p><p>“You called me <em> ‘scarhead’ </em> in <em> French </em>?” Harry squawked in indignation, “we’re insulting each other in other languages, now?”</p><p>“Well, <em> I </em> am,” Draco said haughtily, “since all <em> you </em>can speak is English.”</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to reply, and Draco jumped at the hissing sound that came out. He’d been under the impression that Harry had lost his parseltongue after the war ended, but evidently that was not the case.</p><p>“What was <em> that?” </em> </p><p>“Wouldn’t <em> you </em> like to know?” Harry answered smugly, laughing when Draco grumbled to himself and shoved him in the shoulder.</p><p>“Whatever, <em> Potter, </em> I don’t need your bloody snake-language, anyway. Now, shove over!” He shuffled over on the couch so that he could lay back, propped up against a pillow. Harry took the opportunity to rest his head against Draco’s chest—which was <em> really </em> quite wonderful.”</p><p>“What’s the book called?” Harry mumbled as he watched Draco open the book.</p><p>“It’s called <em> Sire,” </em> Draco answered, and grabbed his wand to levitate the book in front of his head. Now that his hands were free <em> , </em>he was able to tangle his fingers through Harry’s hair as he read—and he smiled self-satisfactorily when he saw the goosebumps that arose on Harry’s arms.</p><p><em>“Au milieu d'une foule surexcitée qui encourageait de la voix et du geste les terrassiers,”</em> Draco began to read,<em> “on commença à creuser…</em><strong>**</strong>"</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>*Interestingly enough, the French version of Chamber of Secrets translates 'scarhead' as <em>'</em><em>balafré' </em> ('scar') rather than <em>'tête de cicatrice'  </em>('scar head')</strong>
</p><p><strong>**Translation: </strong>"In the midst of an overexcited crowd who encouraged the diggers with their voice and gesture, they began to dig." (from <em>Sire, </em>a French novel written by Jean Raspail in 1991)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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